


more than just a dream

by blackkat



Series: useless porn scraps [29]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Anal Sex, Gentle Sex, Love Confessions, M/M, PWP, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 17:29:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14898896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: With a shaky breath, Obito pulls his mouth away, wraps his arms around Kisame's chest and presses up against him. “I wasn’t late,” he says, more to himself than Kisame. “I got there in time. I wasn’t late. I saved you.”





	more than just a dream

A hand swirls out of nothingness just as Kisame makes to summon his sharks for the last time.

From outside the water, there's a cry, alarm and confusion in equal parts, but something in Kisame's chest surges, bright and fierce like joy, and he reaches out, grabs the hand with its dark blue nails and ring, and that whirling force sweeps over him in a rush. In an instant he’s not in the water, not facing Konoha's Green Beast and T&I specialist, but somewhere else, dark and cool and full of squared pillars rising up out of the blackness. He hits the ground hard, rolls back to his feet, and immediately reaches out again.

An orange mask hits the ground with a clatter, and Obito takes his hand, lets himself be dragged in close. “ _Kisame_ ,” he says, all relief that matches what’s in Kisame, and Kisame gets a hand on his face, tips his head up and kisses him fiercely. There's something wet on Obito's cheek, and Kisame feels his heart turn over in his chest, smooths the tears away with his thumbs as he gentles the kiss, deepens it.

He hadn’t thought Obito ever cried, he thinks with something like wonderment.

With a shaky breath, Obito pulls his mouth away, wraps his arms around Kisame's chest and presses up against him. “I wasn’t late,” he says, more to himself than Kisame. “I got there in time. I wasn’t late. I saved you.”

Kisame doesn’t know why it’s important, but clearly it is. He chuckles, smoothing a hand over Obito's soft hair, and wraps an arm around he shoulders to hold him firmly. “You did,” he agrees, and can feel the breath that shudders out of him. “I didn’t plan on making it, you know? You were the only one who could have saved me.”

Fingers curl tight and desperate against Kisame's skin, a fine tremble to them that shinobi-steady hands don’t normally have. And—Kisame should feel bad that the thought of his death would do this to one of the most terrifying men he’s ever met, but somehow all he feels is glad. Glad and a little satisfied and very happy, and he smiles to himself, stroking Obito's hair gently. “I'm okay,” he says again, and lets his legs fold, bearing them both to the ground. Obito lets himself be moved, pulled into Kisame's lap with his legs around Kisame's waist, but he doesn’t lift his head from Kisame's shoulder. That same fine tremble runs through his whole body, and Kisame won't admit it’s worrying him more than a little, even through the adrenaline buzz of the battle.

“You’re okay,” Obito repeats, and it’s hoarse, strained.

He finally raises his head, and his Sharingan eye is wide, the other socket covered by a patch. Kisame brushes his thumb over it, concern flickering through him, and asks, “Didn’t you go to get the Rinnegan from Pein?”

Obito hesitates, and it’s the first time Kisame has ever seen him do so. “I didn’t go,” he admits after a moment, and reaches up. Kisame leans into the cup of his hand, closes his eyes as Obito ghosts a touch across his cheek, his brow. “Konan—she heard that Konoha was moving. That you were going to face Gai and Killer B together. I couldn’t—”

Abandoned a mission, Kisame thinks, caught entirely off guard, _dazed_ by the impact of those words. Obito abandoned a vital mission, crucial to the Eye of the Moon Plan, in order to save Kisame.

No one has ever done something like that for Kisame before.

He takes Obito's mouth again, can't resist, and it’s soft and yielding, Obito's breath sweet as it shakes out of him. Kisame gets an arm around his waist, hauls him up and in and tips his head down to deepen the kiss even as he scrapes his nails up the line of Obito's spine. Obito gasps against his lips, shivers and arches into the touch, and Kisame _wants_. But—

“The plan,” he murmurs as they break apart, keeps his free hand on Obito's chin to hold him there in Kisame's gaze. “What about the Rinnegan? What about the Eye of the Moon?”

Obito closes his eye, shivering. “There—it would be a dream,” he says, and his voice cracks. “Konan, she said…” He presses his fingers into Kisame's shoulders, holds his gaze with a desperation that Kisame's never seen in him before, in all of the two years they’ve been together. “If it all turns into a dream, what were the good parts worth?”

It takes a moment for the meaning to sink in. Kisame's grip tightens without him meaning to, so tight he’s probably pressing bruises into Obito's jaw, but Obito doesn’t look away and Kisame _can't_. Good parts, he thinks, and Kisame has been a tool all his life, been content with that especially in the hands of a man who wouldn’t lie to him, but—that speaks to something more than use. Speaks to something built like this, when Kisame had thought the sex between them was just release, desire with no other outlet.

“Why do you look so surprised, idiot?” Obito asks, and the faint curve of his half-smile is wry and self-depreciating and wan. He leans forward, kisses Kisame's slack lips gently, tenderly. “What other reason would there be?”

Kisame can't even laugh; it’s trapped in his throat, tangled up behind all the words he can't say. He kisses Obito instead, topples him forward to sprawl on the stone underneath him, and it’s Obito who laughs, rough and breathless and almost like a sob. “I don’t want it to have been a dream,” he whispers, carding his fingers through Kisame's hair. “Not this.”

“We’ll think of another plan,” Kisame tells him, and kisses him again. Obito is so small under him, but his hands grip Kisame with strength, cling as he arches up, and Kisame gets his hands into Obito's Akatsuki cloak, pushes it down and off his shoulders. The shirt beneath is tight against his skin, formfitting, and Kisame pushes it up and off, then traces the path of his hands with his mouth. It makes Obito cry out, a pretty, fractured sound, and Kisame gets his pants off as he lays kisses across his stomach.

“Up, _up_ ,” Obito hisses, and the hands on Kisame's shoulders tug hard, urge him back up. Kisame goes, sprawling over Obito with his weight on his elbows as he kisses him deeply, and Obito moans into it, one hand trailing down Kisame's chest. With a huff, Kisame rocks into the touch as it settles between his legs, but a moment later Obito has his pants undone, and then his other hand is on Kisame's cock, slick and cool.

Kisame laughs at that, breaks the kiss to grin at Obito, and enjoys the way Obito smiles back, automatic and warm. “You’re handy to have around,” he says, and grunts when Obito's thumb teases the bundle of nerves right beneath the head.

“I’ll take what I can get,” Obito says, grimly amused, and Kisame is still puzzling out the meaning when Obito gives him one last stroke and lets go. “Come on,” he says, shifting down, and Kisame groans, feeling the head of his cock press up against impossibly tight muscle.

“Let me—” he starts.

But Obito is already shaking his head, twisting his hands together behind Kisame's shoulders. “No,” he says, and slants a quick, soft kiss over Kisame's mouth. “I want to feel it. remind me this isn't a dream.”

Not a dream. Not a lie. Kisame breathes out, holding that spinning black-and-red eye, and then nods. He pushes forward, catching Obito's mouth with his own, and they haven’t been sleeping together lately, too busy, too fraught. The stretch seems like it’s going to be impossible, but Kisame keeps pushing, feels Obito's whole body jerk as the head finally slides in. There’s a cry, muffled by Kisame's lips, and Obito curls up into him, arches as he’s invaded, and the tight clutch of his body is almost too much. Kisame slides all the way home, winded wordless by the flutter and clench of muscles all around his cock, and has to stop and breathe. Obito is gasping under him, head thrown back, expression twisted with pleasure and pain in equal measure.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Obito breathes, and grits his teeth. A whine trembles free, high and half-choked, and Kisame rests his forehead against Obito's, cages him in the safety of Kisame's arms. Obito's hands clutch at his shoulders, nails scratching across his skin as he tries to ground himself, and Kisame wants desperately to move, to fuck him until he’s shaking apart, but he holds himself still, feeling the way Obito's body gradually eases its nearly-painful hold on him, watching the emotions that play across Obito's beautiful face.

“You okay?” he manages, kissing the corner of Obito's eye, the sweep of his scars.

Obito shudders, exhales. His legs curl around Kisame's thighs, and he tugs him up, like he’s going to try and take even more of him, regardless of how Kisame's already fully buried in him. “It’s good,” he says, rough but steady, “It’s good,” and Kisame chuckles, kisses the line of his throat and pulls back, slow and careful. They’ve fucked rough and dirty before, and Kisame knows that Obito has left him sore just as many times as Kisame has done the same to him, but this is different. It’s not a matter of being unsure Obito can take something harder; it’s _wanting_ something slow, soft. Just a little more careful than their normal.

Obito abandoned their goals, came back to save him. Halfway through a battle and he turned around when he heard Kisame might be in danger. Kisame still can't quite believe it, but the proof is right here, squirming underneath him, breathless and red-faced and easily, _easily_ the most beautiful thing Kisame has ever seen. With a chuckle, Kisame slides back in, slow and careful, and Obito sobs out a breath, muscles clamping down. It forces a grunt from Kisame, and he rocks in a little too hard, drives a high, sweet cry from Obito's throat. Kisame loves it, love the sound of him, to feel of him. Silken heat around his cock, tight and desperate as he drags at Kisame's shoulders, those little hitching gasps as Kisame pulls out and then slides back in. Kisame just wants to watch him forever, exactly like this, never let him up from the safe cage of Kisame's arms.

“Kisame,” Obito gets out, and it’s a plea and a cry and that same relief from earlier all tangled up. “Kisame, _ah_ —”

“Shh,” Kisame soothes, kisses him again; he can't get enough of the taste of him, copper and heat and something sharp and green.

Obito loses his words on a sound as Kisame slides home, something that’s so close to pain Kisame almost stops. The grip on his shoulders keeps him going, though, and he lets himself drive in just a little harder, a little faster, hitching his hips up on the stroke in. It tears a loud cry from Obito's throat, a jerk and a tight clench around Kisame's cock, and he does it again, laughing breathlessly as Obito shudders and twitches and moans. He’s going to come, Kisame can see it in his face, in the shiver of his body, and he lets himself fold down, hitches Obito's hips up with one hand and traps his leaking cock between their bodies. It makes Obito sob, and one more thrust shatters him, makes him convulse with a tremble that shakes right through him.

“Beautiful,” Kisame growls, barely even registering the word’s escape, and Obito gasps, eye fluttering open. He stares at Kisame, expression heat and hope and something brighter, and Kisame steals his mouth, presses deep as he rides the clench of Obito's passage. It’s the quiet sob so full of relief, that tips him over the edge, and he holds himself as deep as he can go, taking Obito's mouth and his body and everything else that makes him up. Fills him up, and hopes in some small, secret, greedy part of himself that Obito carries traces of him forever.

“Shh,” he murmurs, and lets his grip on Obito's thigh loosen careful, lowering his hips back to the stone. Obito muffles a whimper as Kisame's cock slides out of him, but Kisame doesn’t pause, gathers Obito up in his arms and pulls him close, rolling them onto their sides and stroking Obito's hair out of his face. “You’re so perfect,” he says, awed by it. “You’re so perfect for me.”

Obito laughs, choked and desperate, and folds his fingers over Kisame's. “It’s not a dream,” he says, and there’s a light in his dark gaze as he stares at Kisame's face. “I thought—”

 _I thought it wasn’t me_ , Kisame hears, and wonders how this perfect, deadly man could ever think Kisame didn’t love him in return. “Of course,” he says gently, kissing Obito's forehead.

Obito smiles, bittersweet, and cups the back of Kisame's head, pulling him down until their foreheads rest together again. “It’s the first time anyone’s loved me back,” he says, not a lament, not a complaint. Just a fact, bare and tired, and Kisame wraps him in his arms and tucks him right up against his chest.

“Better than a dream?” he asks with a chuckle, but he doesn’t loosen his hold.

Obito swallows, nods. “We’ll think of another way to change things,” he says, as quiet as a breath.

Kisame strokes his hair, entirely in agreement. He thinks of Obito on the battlefield, Obito's ability, and smiles. They managed to take over Kiri well enough, before Terumī started throwing her weight around. A bit of subtlety, a bit of care, and no one will even know the world is falling until it’s rubble around their feet. Then there won't be anyone to stop the changes they want. No more killing comrades. No more children fighting wars. No more war at all.

Whatever Konan said, whatever she told Obito, it was enough to save them both, Kisame thinks, and rests his hand over Obito's heart, feeling the steady, unwavering beat of it as Obito holds him tight.

* * *

 


End file.
